mutual apology


Chlamash is making his way along by one of the shelves of histories. He takes a book from the shelf examining it, leafing shortly through it before setting it back in its place.

Lanisen slips into the library from the common gallery, glancing down the room as he does so. Catching sight of Chlamash, he hesitates, then ducks his head and makes his way toward the shelves.

Chlamash finds in his perusal several books which look likely to serve his purpose, and coming around the shelf notes Lanisen’s entrance. “Good Morning.” He says, with a nods of his head.

Lanisen starts slightly and bows, giving Chlamash a quick assessing look. “Good morning, sir,” he answers.

Chlamash says, “Please be welcomed. I pray you will forgive me after the manner of our last meeting. A matter lies upon my mind and it pleased the gods to deprive me of sleep, though I bear thee no ill.”

Lanisen turns red and lowers his head slightly. “I wanted to– I’m, I’m sorry for my part, as well, I was– I forgot my manners, sir.”

Chlamash nods with if not something of an smile, at least a pleasant expression. “It is well. I have no wish to cause you discountenance.”

Lanisen says, flushing redder and avoiding Chlamash’s eyes, “You didn’t, you didn’t.”

Chlamash nods, and opts for another topic of conversation “Have you found of interest a particular subject?” Displaying the books he has gathered, he says, “In speaking with his majesty, I have desired to learn of life during the great winter.”

Lanisen looks with interest at the titles of Chlamash’s books, but remembers himself and averts his eyes. “Ahh, um. Nothin’, nothin’ in particular, sir, I like… um, I like histories, and– some of the books you had out for the white stags, I liked those.”

Chlamash nods, I shall not detain you longer, but if you should so desire be welcomed to join me.” He gestures towards his table where some saffron bread can be seen to set out.

Lanisen follows his gesture. He looks from the bread back to Chlamash, studying the man uncertainly. “I wouldn’t want to, to impose?”

Chlamash says, “It is well spoken, yet I should be glad of company if such should be of your desire as well. He turns pointing to another shelf, “I believe you may find annals of the huntings of the white stag among the greater or lesser mythologies.””

Lanisen hesitates again, but he finally nods, glancing at the shelf Chlamash has indicated. “Thank you, sir.”

Chlamash nods, “You are welcomed.” He makes his way towards his own table leaving Lanisen to stay or go as he wishes.

Lanisen makes his way to the shelf and dallies there for a while, reading titles, opening books to skim their contents. He finally turns to join Chlamash, glancing furtively at the Tarkaan to make sure his welcome has not expired.

Chlamash returns to his table, laying the books he brought in plain view where they can be seen and clearing a place so that other may sit.

Lanisen takes the seat, ducking his head and murmuring thanks, and sets the book down in front of him, taking up as little space as he may.

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